by Vela, Ana
Alpha Trio
Cats & Dogs
Vol. 1
By Ana Vela
© 2013 BCN Press
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This story is intended for mature adults only. It contains sexual scenarios, dirty language, hot action, and much more! Please store your digital files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
And above all – Enjoy!
About the Author
Ana Vela is romantic at heart. Living in Miami with her husband, two sons, and a puppy, she finds time to sneak away at night and live out her fantasies by writing them all down and creating these stories for her faithful readers.
To contact Ana, please write to [email protected], and she will answer each and every email personally!
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Other Books by Ana Vela
Lily and the Billionaire: Vol. 1
Lily and the Billionaire: Vol. 2
Anastasia (Vol. 1)
Anastasia: No Strings Attached (Vol. 2)
Anastasia: Executive Perks (Vol. 3)
Anastasia: Whatever It Takes (Vol. 4)
A Night With My Master (A BDSM Short)
The blonde smelled like synthetic strawberries. The slightly plastic scent made Emilian’s nose twitch. Did chicks really think men wanted them to smell like strawberries? He couldn’t stand it. Vanilla, or freesias, or any of the other ridiculously flowery perfumes and lotions they coated themselves with either. He preferred a woman that smelled like a woman, not a god damned flower shop.
“I don’t normally come to places like this,” she confided, giving him a quick look from beneath her artificially dark lashes. Tammy, or maybe it was Tara, snuggled closer to his side. There was plenty of room in the leather booth. The VIP area of 5tM was luxurious compared to the cramped tables that crowded the dance floor. But... Tanya, that was her name... Tanya was plastered to him like wet seaweed.
His lips twitched. ‘Wet’ being the operative word. Emilian didn’t mind. Her full breasts pressed against his side through the ultra thin fabric of her clingy red dress and she was resting one hand high on his thigh as she sipped her fruity pink drink. The fact that she smelled like Strawberry Shortcake - the doll, not the dessert - could be overlooked.
“I mean,” she leaned in closer, until her red-slicked lips were almost touching his ear. “I’m not usually into the kinky stuff. I’m a good girl, really.” Her words gave him momentary pause. Kinky stuff? But his brain rapidly decoded her thought process. 5tM was actually short for ‘5 to Midnight’, a reference to the doomsday clock. But he supposed the stylized club logo could look like it read ‘S+M’. If you squinted. What did it say about Tanya that that’s what she saw? She was a ‘good girl’, she said.
“I’m sure you are,” he replied. She was leaving thick lipstick marks on her glass. Emilian wondered how the shade would look smeared on his cock. The appendage in question twitched slightly at the thought. Tanya was hot. Long blonde hair, big green eyes and a great set of tits. But he wasn’t the type to jump on the first ride that came along. He was still assessing his options.
He leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the booth, his eyes scanning the gyrating, twitching crowd on the dance floor. He may be off duty, officially, but that didn’t mean he could turn off his instincts. He was always aware of where he was, who was around. Always alert for possible danger. You didn’t survive long in Alpha Trio if you weren’t on top of your game.
5tM wasn’t his usual haunt on his down time. The strobe lights hurt his eyes. But Grigore swore by the place. “Every girl in there is a ten,” his younger brother had assured him. “At least.”
Emilian had to admit, the women were attractive. And the music wasn’t bad either. The low, heavy thump of the bass vibrated in the soles of his boots, down into his bones. As if his thoughts had conjured him from the ether, Grigore appeared, sliding into the booth on Emilian’s other side. His younger brother was panting with exertion, wide grin revealing a lot of bright white teeth. Grigore’s blue eyes, several shades darker than Emilian’s gas flame blue, flicked to the blonde quickly. If his grin got any wider, the top of his head would fall off.
“I told you this place was great.”
“Yeah, yeah. Did you see Drei? He’s supposed to be bringing our drinks.” Emilian scanned the crowd again, trying to catch sight of his older brother. It shouldn’t be too difficult. All three of the Lupei brothers stood head and shoulders taller than everyone else, and Andrei was the tallest of them, nearly 6’7.
Sure enough, he glimpsed Drei’s scowling face as he shoved through the throng. The skin over his cheekbones, the high, sharp cheekbones that were another Lupei family trait, was taut with frustration. People scattered out of Andrei’s way. Not just because of the vicious glare, but his tall, muscled frame cut through the crowd like the prow of a ship through water, without heed for the other club patrons.
“Here he comes,” Grigore shouted, clapping his hands together and then rubbing his palms back and forth.
“That’s your brother? He looks so... angry.” Tanya shifted nervously against his side. Emilian wrapped one muscled arm around her slender shoulders.
“Don’t worry, babe. That’s just his face. Andrei is perpetually pissed off. Still a nice guy though.” He and Grigore shared a laugh. ‘Nice’ was not a word anyone would use to describe Andrei Lupei. Hard-assed, demanding, exacting, slave-driver... those were much more common.
Emilian was more laid back than his older brother. He rolled with the punches. Grigore was the joker of their litter, Andrei the fierce one. He was the calm one. That wasn’t to say that he couldn’t get the job done when it came to riding the new pups on the force until they got their shit together, or kicking some vampire ass. But, generally speaking, not a lot got him riled.
“That fucking bartender was purposefully ignoring me.” Andrei slid three beers onto the table, green glass bottles glistening with drops of condensation. Emilian snatched his up and brought it to his mouth.
“Was it a new guy?”
Scowl or not, Andrei had no trouble with the ladies. None of them did. But Drei’s thick, dark brows knitted. “No.” The word was clipped. Grigore snorted.
“You got the brush off from a lady bartender? Oh man, I gotta see this chick.” Grigore craned around their older brother, trying to glimpse the woman behind the bar. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, and she’s smoking hot too.”
“She’s a total bitch.” Tanya’s green eyes (they were contacts, he could tell) narrowed as she talked about the other woman. “I asked her to make me a skinny Cosmo and she handed me an empty glass.”
Emilian’s lips twitched. That was actually pretty funny. Add that to the fact that she’d given Drei the brush off and he liked the girl already. Drei grunted, the closest thing he had to a laugh. His eyes, so dark a brown they were nearly black, flicked back toward the bar.
Grigore was the only one who commiserated with Tanya. “That’s so rude! She’s probabl
y just jealous because you definitely don’t need a skinny Cosmo.” He flashed his smile at Tanya. She slid her long fingernails through her hair and flipped it over her shoulder.
“You’re so sweet!” she cooed. Emilian kicked up an eyebrow at his baby brother. Grigore shrugged and sipped his beer. He didn’t blame Grigore. That was just the kid’s personality. He was always the one rushing to the rescue of any damsel who might possibly be in distress.
Emilian extricated himself from between Tanya and his smiling brother with swift leap over the table. Tanya gasped in surprise.
“Gotta piss,” he offered in explanation. Grigore took the opportunity to slide closer to Tanya. She didn’t seem to mind. Emilian shook his head, shoving at the wayward lock of black hair that always slid over his forehead. He considered buzzing his hair, like Drei did, but the military cut suited his muscular big brother more than it did his sleek build. At least his hair wasn’t as long as Grig’s. His younger brothers black locks brushed his shoulderblades.
Em didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, but the cloying scent of Tanya’s body wash was getting to be too much after all. He skirted the dance floor with long strides. Hundreds of bodies writhed to the thumping music. Girls in tight tank tops and ripped jeans, guys in leather. The strobing lights sparked off piercings in eyebrows, lips, noses, ears. Bare skin glistened with sweat. Compared to some of the outfits on display, his t-shirt, jeans, and boots were pretty tame, even if they were all black.
“No wonder Grig likes this place,” he muttered as a girl with electric pink hair and barely any clothes on practically crawled up her partner on the dance floor. His little brother loved a spectacle. Drei was probably miserable right now.
Emilian swallowed a chuckle as he swung past the bar to get a look at the bartender. She was just as hot as Grigore had claimed, tall and willowy with bright red hair and pale skin. He considered going over, but the bar was swamped and what he really wanted was fresh air. There were a thousand different scents mingling in the warm air. His head was pounding with it.
He shoved out the door, ducking past the line of people waiting to get in and inhaling a deep breath of cool night air. It was past midnight and the heat of the day had worn off after a rain shower earlier. The smell of dusty, wet pavement hung in the air and the neon lights from 5tM and the other bars and clubs nearby were smeared in the puddles.
“When they found her, she was, you know... dead. Messed with.” The girl waiting on line was hissing the gossip at her friend, morbid glee in her eyes.
Messed with. The words rang in Emilian’s ears. He could clock out of work but not shut off his instincts. His gut said ‘vamp kill’. Most of the bloodsuckers had the good sense not to make their feeds so obvious. Shit like that brought unnecessary attention from the Mundanes.
Most of the skirmishes between vamps and Shifters were territorial in nature. Bloodsuckers had no respect for boundaries. But every once in awhile they had to clean up a vamp’s mess. They were supposed to police their own, but that happened about as often as he hooked up with a human.
Grig and Drei hopped on the ‘Mundane train’ all the time, but Em usually avoided Mundane women. It was too much work, hiding what he was all the time. Which sucked, because sex with humans was so much better. Odd, since they were so fragile and breakable compared to his kind. And the vamps.
But human pussy was hotter and wetter. At least, he thought so. He’d never discussed it with his brothers. He just figured they felt the same way, considering their preference for Mundanes. They stuck to one-night-stands exclusively though. Can’t have a relationship with someone when you can’t explain where you go every day and why you get especially grouchy around the full moon.
Em had done the one-night-stand thing for awhile, but in the last year he’d grown increasingly bored. With human and Shifter girls alike. Not sex, god no. Just the bullshit that always seemed to accompany it. Even the one-night-stands. All the fucking pretense.
Of course, that meant he was horny as hell. He went around semi-hard most of the time, now. “Damn it.”
He stretched his arms over his head, trying to release some of the tension in his muscles. The kind that even a good fight or jerking off couldn’t relieve. He needed a woman.
She stumbled out of the alley, limping on one broken heel, and fell into his arms as if she were an answer to his wish. She was petite, at least compared to his 6’4, with chestnut brown hair in a messy twist on top of her head and curves for days. She looked up at him with soft eyes the purple-blue color of wolfsbane.
“Help,” she breathed, her plump pink lips trembling, and glanced back over her shoulder into the shadowy mouth of the alley. Emilian instinctively turned so his body was between her at the threat, whatever it was.
“Come with me.” He didn’t give her the chance to argue. He kept his arm curved around her lush waist and led her into the club, pushing past the waiting line of people. The bouncer opened his mouth to say something but Em shot him a fierce look, upper lip wrinkling slightly back from his teeth. The guy wisely subsided.
She had a streak of grease on one cheek and he could smell blood on her, though he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. He shouldered through the bumping, writhing crowd, stiff arming people out of the way as he ushered her toward the bathroom. He didn’t even stop to wonder why he gave a shit what this chick’s problem was. He was trained to react to danger and protect innocents. And this ripe little beauty reeked of innocence.
Actually, aside from the blood, grease, and the faint, acrid smell of her fear, he detected only a light sweat and... ink. He sniffed at her hair. The soft, dusty smell of old books hovered around her too. A librarian?
“Th-thank you,” she stuttered. “That man...” She pressed her lips so tightly together they turned white and shook her head. From the corner of his eye, Em saw her reach down and touch her knee. She winced and the smell of blood grew stronger. Skinned her knee when she fell, most likely.
“Don’t worry about him.” Whoever the guy was who’d been giving her a hard time, it was unlikely he’d be able to follow them into the club without waiting in line. And Em doubted he’d continue to pursue her into such a public setting. He’d get her cleaned up and put in a cab home.
She balked as he pushed into the ladies’ room, but he just shoved her through the door. Gently, but it was still a shove. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Look, I appreciate you helping me get in here but I can take it from here, big guy.” She crossed her arms beneath her ample breasts.
Em didn’t even try and not look. The short suit jacket was hideous, but the white blouse underneath clung in all the right places. When he raised his eyes back to hers, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were snapping sparks. He quirked a dark brow, pushing the door closed as someone else tried to open it. They both heard a soft thump and a petulant, ‘What the fuck’. Em just pressed his palm flat and looked at her.
“Fine,” she groused. She spun on her unbroken heel and crossed to the sink. He watched her as she scrubbed at her cheek. She mumbled under her breath the whole time. “Should have known better. Stupid move, Cat. An alley, really? Jesus. What did you expect?”
Em’s lips twitched. Irony. “Your name’s Cat?”
She jerked. Her wide eyes met his in the mirror. “Um. Yes.” She bent over to dab at her scraped knee with a damp paper towel. Em admired the curve of her ass in the tweed skirt. Tweed? Who wore tweed?
“Are you going to tell me what happened out there?”
“No,” she replied quickly, through gritted teeth.
He leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why not? If there’s some guy out there bothering women, shouldn’t you tell someone? He might move on to someone else now that you’re out of his reach.” He could tell from the way the color drained from her cheeks that she hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. But she still shook her head. She straightened, tossing the wadded up, blood-stained paper towel into the trash.
&
nbsp; “I don’t think that’s an issue.” Her tone was curt. She was trying to discourage him from asking any more questions. It wasn’t going to work.
“So you know the guy?” Em was good at figuring things out. Following clues. He was the best tracker the Alpha team had. And the fact that she was reasonably sure the guy who’d been hassling her would immediately go out and look for another victim meant she thought he’d targeted her specifically.
Cat reached up, tugged the clip from her hair, and began combing her fingers through the tangles. She didn’t meet his gaze, and her hands were shaking. She evaded the question. “What are you, a cop? Why do you care?”
“Something like that,” he responded, just as evasive. Her eyes grew wary as she watched him. She twisted her hair back up into a neat bun and refastened the clip.
“I don’t know what that means, mister. Now, I appreciate your help and all, but I need to get home. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” Her pupils dilated. Em could smell the spike in her adrenaline. She was lying. She was also terrified. It was coming off her in waves. He shrugged and moved aside. He wasn’t Grigore. Damsels weren’t his thing.
